


wax wings

by starshipaurora



Category: The Mechanisms (Band), Ulysses Dies at Dawn - The Mechanisms (Album)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, All the Mechs are Autistic, Autism, Complicated Relationships, Fire, Found Family, Gen, Mechanisms OC, Mechanization, Mechsona, Mom Raphaella, Morally Gray Parenting, Neopronouns, Nonverbal Character, The Mechanisms-Typical Death, The Mechanisms-Typical Violence, Trans Characters, arson maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshipaurora/pseuds/starshipaurora
Summary: Icarus walks down the street on the way to the metalworker, hands folded together at xer chest, and focuses on the thumping of xer bag on xer thigh. The bag that holds an envelope that will change the world.
Relationships: Daedalus & Icarus (Ulysses Dies at Dawn), Icarus & Raphaella la Cognizi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. hubris

**Author's Note:**

> everything that i post nowadays is self indulgent but u know what? thats just self care. welcome to my mechsona based off one line in 'the daidala.'
> 
> icarus uses xe/xem/xer/xers/xemself and prefers masculine nouns/adjectives (boy, son, handsome, etc)
> 
> some warnings:  
> \- this fic deals with icarus' death by fire and mechanization. so be warned.  
> \- daedalus and icarus have a complicated relationship. there are mentions of emotional neglect in the past, some of daedalus' actions may read as emotionally abusive, and he does play a role in xer death.  
> \- more warnings will be given in future chapters if applicable!

Daedalus is not... a  _ bad  _ father. Certainly not if you put him into the context of The City, where there are those such as Zeus who do much, much worse.

But to Icarus, every ambition, every accomplishment that xe managed to get xer hands on in the overcrowded, polluted City was torn down by Daedalus.

It didn’t matter that Icarus was the one chance xer father had at leaving this gods-forsaken place.

“Icarus.”

Xe is working on blueprints when Daedalus opens the door to his workshop. Xe says nothing.

“What have I told you about this?” he says, ripping the paper from xer hands and running his eyes along the writings. He scowls.

Icarus knows that look, and it fills xem with frustration every time it crosses xer father’s face. Xe groans and kicks at the table. Daedalus tosses the plans down onto the desk.

“Good luck, boy. It’s never going to work, and I think we both know it.”

And then he’s gone again. Icarus lets a scream tear from xer throat and throws the tainted blueprints of a starship into the trash.

\---

It takes longer than xe would have liked, saving up on xer own and going without xer father. But xe obtains the materials xe needs, and gets to work.

Long days and longer nights are spent, hammering and welding and smithing. And eventually, the hull is complete. Icarus runs xer hands along the metal, squealing in admiration of xer work.

Daedalus enters.

“You’re remarkably stubborn, you know that?” he says, mouth twitching upwards for just a moment. He walks over to the desk, cane tapping on the hard floor. His eyes land on a folder, and Icarus curses xemself for labelling it.

There is silence for a moment.

“You want to publish this?” Daedalus asks, voice quietly cold.

Icarus nods. Xe knows what he’s going to say next, and it makes xer heart beat faster with pent-up anger.

“No.”

Frustration and rage bubbles up inside xem, and xe throws a hammer across the room. Daedalus walks over and stands directly in front of xem.

“Listen to me, son. Do you know how dangerous that would be? For both of us? For this whole family? All the fucking work I put in with the Olympians, you want to risk that?”

Icarus fumbles a modified sign, one of the few of xers Daedalus knows— “Help.”

“I don’t give a shit about helping other people. And neither should you. This whole thing is impossible." He sighs. "Fuck, it won’t work, but build a ship if you really want to. No one— and I mean  _ no one _ — is hearing a word about it.” Daedalus is staring directly into xer eyes, but xe looks away.

Lava-hot molten anger is pooling in xer stomach. Xe huffs, and then wheezes.

“No. Look at me, son.” Xe doesn’t, but he continues. “This will put us both in danger. And I am not sacrificing my reputation so you can play world-saving engineer. If you go against me, I  _ will  _ stop you, do you understand me?"

Icarus stomps and groans, cadence lilting up in a plea.

Daedalus steps forward, voice dropping.

"I will have you killed.”

Xe doesn’t remember any of the meltdown that follows.

\---

“The shoulderblades are completely broken,” says some doctor that Daedalus has taken xem to see. Xe is hunched over so often, is hunched over right now, rocking back and forth on the cold metal exam table. “The only option at this point is to replace them, perhaps replace some of the muscles as well.”

Daedalus glances at xem. “I can afford that.”

Icarus keens, high-pitched. The doctor shifts from foot to foot.

“Can you handle that, boy?” Daedalus asks. His voice is just a touch softer than the usual icy tone he takes on.

Xe gives a small nod and digs xer fingers into xer scalp.

“We’ll do it.”

\---

Icarus flexes xer shoulders. Iron shoulder blades branded  _ RLC _ sinks under xer skin, shifting with each movement. Wires dive over and under xer skin like thread in fabric, rippling out and reconnecting to organic arteries and veins.

It hurts, but only if xe pays attention.

Daedalus has been checking up on xem more often.

Which would be nice, if Icarus was a child again, doing everything and anything to earn xer father’s respect. But what xe is trying to do now requires xer father to not be breathing down xer neck every hour, making sure xe isn't having a pain-meltdown.

Xe is fine. Just fine.

It takes xem groaning loudly at him for Daedalus to sigh and say, "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone. But I will be back to bring dinner." He shuts the door.

Xe scoffs. He's never made xem dinner. It's always been a maid or a servant or someone Daedalus can pay to care for xem.

Icarus relishes in the quiet and resumes typing a letter to Athena.

\---

One more part. Just a few screws and bolts and xe will be done. Done with the ship, with this hell of a City.

Xe walks down the street on the way to the metalworker, hands folded together at xer chest, and focuses on the thumping of xer bag on xer thigh. The bag that holds an envelope that will change the world.

Ships don’t have to be expensive. The Olympians aren’t the only ones who can build them. If only they knew— if only everyone knew what xe knows.

Xe squeals and xer arms flail out with excitement, knocking them into a person with some sort of decorative wings. They mumble an apology and keep walking at full speed.

Icarus clicks xer tongue in a steady rhythm as they stop at a mailbox. Xe drops the envelope in and flaps xer hands, laughing. Time to change the world.

Across the grimy street, a figure with a serpent’s jaw tattoo watches.

\---

Icarus arrives home, arms full with a large scrap of metal. No one else is home, it seems, so xe races to the workshop and grabs xer tools.

Only an hour later, it’s done.

It’s  _ done _ .

It’s fucking done, and xe did it alone, without xer father, without anyone.

Xe keens with overflowing excitement and claps xer hands together, bouncing on the tips of xer toes. Now all that’s left is to start it up, make sure everything is connected. And then it will fly, fly xem and xer father out of here, into the sky and away from the City.

Icarus climbs into the small, two-person cockpit. Rocking in the small, uncomfortable chair, xe presses a button.

Click-click-click—

And suddenly everything is fire.

\---

The heat rolls over xer body and xe cries out as the ship bends concave into xem, molten bronze like wax against xer skin. Xer vision is flames and sparks and—

And Daedalus.

Standing before the fire, cane supporting him, looking as elegant as the newspapers make him seem.

Icarus screams.

“I told you not to fly too close to the sun, boy.”

There is a great metal creak, and the starship drowns xem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really want to write a long meta post about my own fic detailing exactly how i view icarus' relationship with xer father but that is for another day
> 
> also yes icarus is completely nonverbal! and i will forever be a supporter of behavior _is_ communication. i thought long and hard about whether daedalus would accept icarus' autistic traits, and if it should play into their relationship at all. and then i figured, fuck it, this is the mechs and this is the City, there are many problems but ableism doesn't have to be one of them.
> 
> that's all for today! leave a comment if you'd like, it would make my day, and get ready for some mom raph next chapter :3c


	2. nike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy this is a long one folks. in all honesty it couldve been shorter but no way i split the chapter would have worked how i wanted it, so! here u go.
> 
> warnings for:  
> \- death; icarus' body is described  
> \- the mechanization process isn't described, just xem waking up from it  
> \- a short panic attack due to said mechanization

Raphaella la Cognizi is not one to get emotionally attached. Out of the millennia she’s been experimenting on every subject she can get her hands on, the crew of the Aurora have been the sole exception that have wormed their way into her locked heart. She does not get invested, or sentimental.

But she does get curious.

And when she sees a boy stimming on the street, metal plates shifting under xer skin, she gets very, very curious. Especially considering she recalls custom-making a pair of shoulderblades for Daedalus’ son— what was xer name, again?

She tries to remember as she leans back against a shop window. The boy drops an envelope into a mailbox and walks off, flicking xer fingers. She watches xem go, and when she looks away, she catches—

A figure she knows as Perdix, another of Daedalus’ children. They’re watching the boy with pure malice in their eyes, twisting their fingers together. On one hand is a tattoo of a fish spine, and on the other, a serpent’s jaw.

All of a sudden, she remembers the boy’s name. Icarus. She isn’t as well-versed in Stories as the other members of the crew, but she knows enough to put the pieces together.

Raphaella does not walk across the street out of empathetic worry. She does not step directly in front of Perdix, wings drawn out to their full span, out of emotional concern. At least, that’s what she’s telling herself.

“What are you up to, Perdix?” she asks.

They step back, eyes wide. “N-Nike! I wasn’t—” She nearly smiles at the name. All of her scientific endeavors are credited to her own name, of course, but socially, those in the City know her as Nike. Jonny came up with it. She thinks he was being snarky, but it stuck.

“Bullshit.” She narrows her eyes.

“Whatever Athena wants, she can have it, I—”

“This isn’t about Athena. What were you doing, staring at Icarus like that?”

They shudder. Wow, they’re much more nervous than she would have thought. “I-I was, um. My father asked me to watch xem. See if xe— If xe mailed anything. I don’t know anything else, I swear.”

Raphaella runs through a dozen different scenarios in her head as to why, exactly, Daedalus is keeping track of his son sending letters. None of them have any evidence, which is really putting a hole in her ‘I’m doing this for science’ logic now.

“Give me the address where xe lives,” she says.

Perdix scribbles down the address with shaky yet calloused hands. “Xe and my father live together, he said he would be home now, or— actually no, no wait, I misspoke, Daedalus isn’t home, he’s out with someone!” They finish in a panic, shoving the paper scrap into her hands.

Hm.

“Thank you, Perdix.” She says, spreading her wings out again, just to watch them squirm. With a flap of her wings, she’s up in the air, paper clutched tight.

\---

When she enters the house, it is deathly quiet. The only sounds are of the electricity running and a faint crackle of flame. She follows the latter until she reaches Daedalus’ workshop.

She sighs at what she finds. The smoky remains of a two-person starship, and a workshop half-burned. It doesn’t take her long to find the body of Icarus.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs to no one.

She pulls xem out of the wreckage and onto her lap. With careful hands, she picks and prods at various parts of xem. Xe is tan, short, and chubby, sporting dark shoulder-length hair with streaks of white— most of it singed. Xer hazel eyes are wide open, xer mouth agape... was xe screaming? Crying for help?

For once in a very long time, her mind is utterly blank. She finally accepts that she’s not conducting an examination or an experiment. She’s just feeling... grief, for a boy she never met.

Raphaella stands with a sigh, clutching Icarus’ body. Well, xe does have some of her work already inside xem. This is a chance to test her skills, and she’s always up for an exercise in her scientific knowledge. It’s been millennia, hasn’t it, since Marius?

That thought sets her right again, and her wings flap slowly. She gives one last glance to the ruined workshop. Her eyes catch a folder, covered in ash. Inside are the blueprints for the same starship she reckons is smoking behind her.

She takes the folder and carries Icarus out of xer father’s home.

\---

It is not a strange occurrence for a smiling Raphaella to walk into the kitchen with a dead body in her arms. In most instances, Nastya just resumes sipping her tea as she listens to Raphaella ramble about the kind of mutant bacteria she’d injected into her unfortunate subject’s arteries.

However, it  _ is  _ a strange occurrence for Raphaella to walk into the kitchen with a dead body, looking nervous.

“Nastya?” she calls from the doorway. “Can you, erm. Help me with something. I need a lab assistant.”

“What for?” Ivy asks from the chair across from Nastya, drinking coffee and reading a book in a long-dead language. The same as Nastya, she seems a bit wary of Raph’s expression.

The expression drops quickly, though, and she smiles confidently instead. “I’m going to mechanize someone.”

Nastya drops her teacup. It shatters on the floor, but no one reacts.

“What—” she hisses, standing up and stalking over to Raph, “—the absolute space-hell are you thinking.”

Raph’s cloth feathers bristle. “I was  _ thinking  _ that I’ve only mechanized myself and Marius, and neither was a very good job. It’s been so long and I’ve learned so much, don’t you think I could do so much better?”

“If your idea of ‘better’ is subjecting another person to the lives we lead, then no, I don’t think so.” Nastya flaps her hands at her sides, eyebrows furrowed.

“No offense, Raph, but I agree with Nastya,” Ivy says quietly, setting her book down. “Aurora is... loud enough already.”

**Yes, Ivy. Not that I don’t love you all very much, but I am much too crowded,** Aurora says, snaking down a wire to pat Raph’s head like a parent telling their child it’s bedtime.  **Also, I am certain there are a few other crew members who would object to this, as well.**

“Fine!” she says, flapping her wings in a flare of anger. “I can do it myself, then!”

And with that, she turns on her heel and starts heading for the lab. Nastya calls out behind her, but she simply huffs and continues on.

\---

Icarus wakes up from death for the first time strapped to an examination table, lying on xer stomach. Xer heart immediately starts beating rapidfire and xe tries to break out of the restraints.

“Oh! You’re awake!” someone says, before gasping loudly. “Oh gods— you’re awake! I did it!”

The restraints are untied and xe flips xemself over, arms shaking.

And then xe feels something in xer shoulders.

Not just the iron shoulderblades that xe has gotten so used to. Now there is something new— something new and different and large.

Wings.

The metal bones snap into position like unused joints as xe figures out how to move them, whining lowly as xe does.

Xe doesn’t have wings, xe  _ died _ , in the fire, when Daedalus—

Icarus lets out a sob and curls up on the exam table.

“Ah, erm.” The person beside xem shifts around awkwardly.

**Raphaella, you must improve your table-side manner,** someone new says, chuckling.

A heavy blanket is dropped over xem from the front, not touching xer wings, and xe rocks back and forth for a while as xe cries. A quiet, soothing song plays from somewhere in the room. Is it playing, or is someone singing?

Icarus lifts xer head up and squints through teary eyes at a winged person in a lab coat. She smiles crookedly and sets down a screwdriver.

"Hi," she says slowly. "I'm Raphella la Cognizi. But you might know me as Nike."

Xe thinks, distantly, of the  _ RLC _ branded into xer iron shoulders, and the Nike xer father spoke of sometimes.

**And I am the Aurora,** she says. Xe looks up, confused, and hears her laugh.  **I am the starship. I understand the concept of sentient ships might be unfamiliar to you, having lived in the City.**

Xe gives a small nod and starts biting xer fingers.

"Do you... remember what happened to you?" Raphaella asks, picking up a clipboard and pen. Her wings are flared out in excited anticipation.

Icarus nods again, and with a start, touches xer cheek with xer fingertips. Xe remembers burning, remembers xer skin melting.

**I think that is a yes, dear,** Aurora says to her, and adjusts the blanket with a mechanical arm that’s attached to the exam table.

“So, Icarus.” Raphaella scribbles away on her clipboard. “As you might have noticed, I’ve got wings as well. Through my many years of having mechanical wings, I’ve been taking notes on what I could’ve done better. And yes, I suppose I could make myself new wings, but that requires someone besides myself to safely attach them, and I trust no one on this ship.”

**That is very much not true,** Aurora says, sounding amused.  **Not even me?**

Her wings rustle with annoyance and she makes a grumbling noise. “Anyway. one of the things I think would work brilliantly is molding the feathers out of something like clay. There are separate parts to wings, you see, but I’ve had to cut many small pieces out of fabric and attach them all together, and you can imagine how tiring that is after so many deaths, but with clay, all it would require is about six pieces, fitting them into a mold on the bones, solidifying them, and you’re done!”

Icarus stares at her blankly, having processed only about half of what she’d said.

“Basically, you’re going to have clay wings. Harder to rip apart and easier to replace.” She flits around the lab, looking in various cabinets and drawers (one contains something that meows and then  _ squelches  _ before she shuts the door again) until she stops and sighs. “I need clay. And Ashes isn’t here to show me where it is.”

**We don’t have any,** Aurora supplies helpfully. Raph groans.  **I doubt there is much clay in the City shops, unless you want to visit my favorite quartermaster for assistance.**

“Well then!” she says, perking up again. She leans over Icarus, visibly checking xem for any abnormalities, and then strides towards the door. “C’mon, Icarus. Let’s get back to the City. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont ask me how clay wings would work i just like the symbolism ok
> 
> there's just one more chapter til icarus is gonna meet the rest of the crew... but i think that chapter is gonna be enjoyable ;)


End file.
